


Reparations

by Regina_V



Series: The 100's Kink Meme Fills [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 17:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_V/pseuds/Regina_V
Summary: Nearly sixteen-year-old Clarke Griffin is given to Bellamy Blake by her mother in exchange for him keeping quiet about something that would ruin her family.





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke Griffin is a wreck when she knocks on the door. She looks around nervously as she waits. The house is modest, but in clear need of repair. It is surrounded by a field of grass on all sides, and woods beyond that. She cannot remember how long ago it was on the drive here that she saw another house.

Behind her, she can hear the car that had dropped her off driving away--sealing her fate. She swallows hard as she waits for the door to open, for her fate to be sealed.

Her mother didn't explain much to her as she was shuffled into the car that morning, but the pieces she was able to put together didn't paint a very good picture. Her family was in trouble. They did something wrong--something illegal--and someone else knows and is blackmailing them. And, despite her family's wealth, he doesn't want money. He wants her.

She knocks again, fearful of what will happen if somehow the deal that was struck doesn't go through.

The afternoon sun shines down on the porch, warming her legs and the breeze causes her light pink sundress to caress her thighs. Suddenly the silence is broken when she hears the  _thump, thump, thump_  of someone quickly descending the stairs. With shaky hands, she wipes at the tears that had fallen down her face. She then smooths down her hair and dress, determined to make as good of a first impression as she can in this kind of a situation.

The one thing her mother did make clear was that her family's future depended on her.  _"As long as you please him,"_  her mother had said before she got out of the car,  _"we will all be safe."_

Clarke is pretty sure that 'all' does not include her anymore.

The door swings open abruptly, breaking her from her thoughts. Her first thought upon seeing her family's blackmailer--her...owner--is that he's younger than she had thought he would be. And more attractive as well. She isn't sure if that makes it better or worse.

"I am--" she starts, thinking to introduce herself, but he cuts her off.

"I know who you are," he says, his voice cold and emotionless. He steps back and opens the door wider. "Follow me," he commands, leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, knowing this constitutes the beginning of the contract, Clarke steps over the threshold, her bare feet--as per his instructions to her mother--instantly feeling the coldness of the old wood flooring.

She knows his name, she remembers as he silently leads her through the house. Bellamy Blake. Her mother had mentioned it when explaining the situation. She was told not to get used to it, that he would likely never allow her to use it.

They arrive in the living room, which seems to be as sparsely furnished as the rest of the house, from Clarke's observations. No personal belongings. No knick-knacks, no pictures, very little color to speak of. 

She stands still, waiting for instruction. Another word of advise from her mother.  _"You'll have very little will of your own anymore, Clarke, don't presume any liberties at all."_

"Sit down," Bellamy barks after a moment, pointing to a worn couch across from him.

Clarke quickly moves to comply, her hands still trembling.

"How old are you?" he questions her. There's something about the slight tilt of his head, and the inflection of his voice that makes Clarke sure this is a test. Her mother had told him she was sixteen. She told Clarke to keep up that lie; she was afraid fifteen would be too young for him and that the deal would be off.

Clarke takes one look at his face, his eyes focused on her, darkening rapidly; and then, without even meaning to, catches the slight twitch of the bulge in his pants. Somehow, he already knows, she is sure; and it doesn't seem as if those few months make much of a difference to him.

"Fifteen," she answers truthfully, but she feels compelled to add, "but my birthday is in two months."

He seems pleased with her answer, but snorts at her addition. "We'll do something special for the occasion," he says sardonically. Clarke shivers at the promise in those mocking words.

He walks away for a moment and grabs a chair that had been against the wall. "Did you follow all of my instructions?" he asks as he positions it across from her and sits down.

Clarke nods, even as she blushes, recalling the instructions her mother had rattled off that morning. No makeup, no hair accessories, no hair anywhere except her head, no shoes, no jewelry, no undergarments. The only thing she was allowed to bring is the light pink sundress covering her nude body. 

"Show me," he says, his voice becoming a little less cold and a little more seductive. Clarke wonders if this is purposeful or if he is even aware of the change his apparent arousal causes in his behavior. "Spread your legs for me."

Hesitantly, but dutifully, aware once more that she is no longer the owner of her own body, she spreads her legs.

"Further," he instructs, "I want to see everything."

Clarke cringes, embarrassed by her young developing body, but does as she is asked. She spreads her legs further apart, until she feels an ache in her muscles from the strain.

Neither of them move for the longest time. Bellamy's eyes remain glued to her bare private area on display for him. Clarke, unable to take the staring any longer, closes her eyes tightly and leans her head back. Her legs start to shake from the effort of keeping them in position.

"Do you know why you are here?" he asks, his voice once again emotionless.

Clarke nods, opening her eyes once more in order to look at him. "Yes," she answers. "My family--"

"--sold you to me," he cuts her off. "You are here to please me. Your one duty is to  _satisfy_ me. As long as you do that, your family will remain safe. If you fail in your duty, your family will be ruined, your parents will go to jail, and you will likely end up in foster care."

Bellamy abruptly stands up, and Clarke cringes at the forceful sound of the chair screeching across the flooring.

He points to a spot on the floor in front of him. "Kneel for me," he instructs her.

Clarke scrambles off of the couch in order to obey, and quickly finds herself kneeling on the cold wood floor, looking up at him. She watches in abject terror as he unbuttons and unzips his pants and frees his large, erect member. He'd positioned them perfectly, so she is only inches away from his pulsing member.

"Suck it," he commands her, his voice more cruel now.

Clarke's eyes are unable to leave the cock in front of her. She's never actually seen one in person before, and it looks a lot bigger than she'd imagined while reading her secreted books late at night. It also seems scarier than those books had led her to believe it would be. Her lower lip trembling slightly, she shifts her gaze to Bellamy.

"I'm sorry--I've never... _I don't know how_ ," she tries to explain, worried he'll find fault with her.

To her surprise, he nearly grins. "You're a virgin in every meaning of the word?" he sounds somewhat mocking, but also seems genuinely curious. At her nod, he says, "Well, it's nice to know I wasn't lied to about that as well."

She still doesn't know what to do, so she just stares up at him, her eyes repeatedly being drawn to the large cock in front of her face.

"Suck the cock, slave," he orders her again. She flinches at the form of address, but he mistakes that for apprehension of his order and adds, "There will be plenty of time to perfect your skills later. Let me see what you've got."   



	2. Chapter 2

Resigned to her fate--the word  _slave_ weighing heavy on her mind now that he's said it aloud--she slowly moves her head forward and takes the cock in her mouth.

She tries to summon the forbidden knowledge she'd read in her books and magazines. She closes her eyes and tries to pretend it's a lollipop, licking and sucking it as best she can. She keeps her tongue moving, exploring the veins of the cock in her mouth with her tongue. Then she slowly, uncertain of how much she can take, moves her mouth to take more of the cock inside of her.

Her mouth seems very full, but she thinks she must be doing something right, because Bellamy moans above her and grabs hold the blonde hair on the back of her head, pulling just enough for her to notice. She opens her eyes wide and looks up at him.

He is focused directly on her, and she can see the wild lust in his eyes when their eyes meet. Without breaking eye contact, she moves her head backward, letting his cock nearly leave her mouth, then envelopes him again, with more pressure, her tongue lapping at him.

" _Fuck_!" she hears him murmur, drawing out the word. She moans back at him, pleased that he is happy.

His grip on her hair tightens and he starts to move her head, controlling the movements instead of allowing her to do so. Clarke allows him to control the pace and she concentrates on the movement of her tongue. Drool starts to run down her face, but she ignores it. He starts to push her head too deep down the length of his cock, though, and she starts to gag. She struggles a little, worried that she can't breathe, but his grip on her is solid.

Tears start to stream down her face as he begins to truly fuck her face with his cock; through her tears, she can see the animalistic look of pleasure on his face. His pace is too quick and brutal for her to concentrate on much more than breathing when she has the opportunities, but she gets the impression that he doesn't care about her technique anymore at this stage of the event.

Eventually, with a loud moan, he thrusts her mouth down on his cock, just before it would engage her gag reflex, and she feels for the first time what it's like to have someone cum in her mouth. She doesn't know what to do as each spurt hits her throat, and she starts to gag, uncomfortable with the feeling as well as the taste.

Hearing her struggles, his eyes focus on her. "Swallow," he commands even as he continues to spurt cum in her mouth. Clarke immediately notices the change in his voice. The emotion is gone once more.

Determined to please him, and fearful of the consequence if she does not, she focuses on the task of swallowing all the cum he deposits in her mouth.

 

When Clarke pulls her mouth away from his cock, Bellamy immediately refastens his pants and rights his appearance. Kneeling before him, Clarke watches in fascination as he quickly transforms from the version of himself that was so consumed with pleasure when she had her mouth around his cock, to the version of himself that is able to look down at her as if she is nothing of significance.

She remembers his order from earlier, 'suck the cock, slave,' and it really starts to hit her that she truly is no longer is anything of significance. She's just a slave now. 

A slave who currently has drool and cum running uncomfortably down her face and neck.

She isn't even certain if she has the right to wipe it away, or if that would anger him. She isn't brave enough to ask, though, so she resigns herself to that reality as she looks up at Bellamy--her owner, she reminds herself bitterly--waiting for instruction.

Bellamy turns behind him to retrieve the chair he was sitting in before. "That was pretty good for a first time," he remarks, and when he turns back to her, Clarke can see the smirk playing at his mouth. "You're well-read," he says with a somewhat cruel twist of his lips as he sits back down in the chair in front of her.

Clarke blushes and, unthinkingly starts back toward the couch she had occupied before giving him the blowjob.

For the first time, Clarke hears Bellamy raise his voice. “Did I tell you to move?” his voice booms out at her. She shivers from the force of his voice, but does not continue to the couch.

“No, I’m sorry,” she pleads, panic chocking her voice. “I-I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” She stays frozen in place—halfway in between the floor and the couch, and halfway between kneeling and standing—unsure of what to do.

“Back to your previous position, slave,” he commands her. “Kneel before your master.”

Clarke flinches at the terminology, hating the reminder of her position. She resents her mother for bargaining her family’s security on her value as a human being, and is wary of a man who would barter with the life of a teenage girl’s innocence. Nevertheless, her choice remains fixed: destroy her family or satisfy the desires of this man. So she slowly kneels before him once again, averting her gaze, even as she feels his eyes on her.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, he speaks once more. “I think it’s time we go over the rules of this agreement.” He says it as if making a suggestion, but it is phrased in such a way that there is no arguing the point. Even though she wants to, she knows she cannot do anything to risk harming her family.

She gives him a shallow nod of agreement, even as she knows her opinion is irrelevant.

He puts one hand into the pocket of his suit and brings out a collar. It reminds Clarke of something that might be put on a dog. “You are no longer allowed on the furniture, unless specifically invited by me. You are also no longer allowed to walk around. You will crawl on all fours everywhere you must go,” Bellamy instructs her, further reminding her of a dog. He reaches forward and secures the collar around her neck, and Clarke hears the locking mechanism click into place. “Furthermore, you must be led everywhere by a leash. You do not have the autonomy to choose where to go—you crawl where I say you crawl—is that clear?”

Clarke nods, her eyes downcast. She spots the drops of cum and drool on the dirty floor from her first blowjob. She blinks back tears as the reality of her situation begins to firmly set in.

“You must follow all instructions I give you, even if you don’t like it--even if you don’t want to. You must always ask permission to cum or go to the bathroom, and you must abide by my decisions. If I say you can’t cum, you better not cum. If I tell you that you are not allowed to shit for another six hours, you will not shit.” His tone is harsh, and Clarke can hear how much he’s enjoying holding this much power over her. He adds, “And, given that the toilet is considered furniture, you will shit and piss outside like the animal you are.”

The tears start to fall in earnest then. She knows these rules are designed to humiliate her, and she hates him for succeeding in his aim. She wants to protest and tell him she won’t follow his sadistic rules, but she has no choice.

 

“You are no longer allowed to wear clothes, as slaves are not worthy of clothing,” Bellamy continues in his list. There is a heavy pause after this statement, as Clarke takes a moment to understand that he is waiting for her to surrender her sundress—the last piece of clothing she owns.

Reluctantly, whilst wiping away tears, Clarke pulls the sundress over her still kneeling body and sets it on the floor, surrendering it to Bellamy.

He nods before resuming his instructions. “You will address me only as ‘sir’ or ‘master’ unless otherwise instructed by myself, is that clear?”

Clarke swallows again before nodding her understanding, “Yes, Sir.”

He nods back once more in what she assumes is approval and then says, “You will receive punishments when you break any rules, but if I’m being honest, you may also be punished just because I wish to punish you.”

Clarke continues to cry silently as she kneels naked on the floor, staring up at the man who now owns her body. Two days ago, she recalls making plans for summer vacation with her school friends, and now her only plans are to satisfy the desires of this man as his slave…indefinitely.

Through her tears, she can see Bellamy’s eyes soften just a little, and when next he speaks, he uses her name for the first time. “I am not expecting you to enjoy being my slave, Clarke,” he says softly, her name on his lips quickly bringing her back to attention. Then his voice returns once again to being cold and hard, “If I’m being honest, I’ll probably like it more when you don’t enjoy it, but I am expecting you to always endure it. You are here for my pleasure—whatever that entails—that is the bargain that was struck, and you will abide by my rules. Is that understood, slave?”

She sniffles and hiccups before answering reluctantly, “Yes, Master.”

He abruptly stands, and Clarke has to fight the urge to do the same, quickly realizing that doing so would probably result in a punishment. “Very well, then. I believe I’ll show you around, now,” he tells her.

She doesn’t move as she watches him walk around the room before picking up something from a table against the wall. He brings it closer, and she realizes what the object is.

Her leash.

She flushes with shame and humiliation as Bellamy attaches the leash to her collar and begins to walk, tugging her along impatiently. Swallowing her emotions, Clarke crawls after him.

He walks her to the kitchen and shows her the food and water bowls on the floor next to his spot at the table. She flushes with humiliation once more as it is explained to her that she will eat like an animal as well.

He guides her around the entirety of the house, making it clear that she may not interact with anything unless given permission, so the tour is mostly a formality. The tour ends at the bedroom, which she has been dreading, but when he opens the door and guides her inside, she only begins to cry once again.

On the floor beside the large king sized bed is a large metal dog cage. She shakes her head ‘no’ even as Bellamy begins to speak.

“Slaves don’t get to be in beds unless their masters order them there, because beds are furniture,” he reminds her for what feels like the hundredth time. “As such, you will sleep in this cage next to me.”

Clarke hates this—she hates him—and she’s pretty sure the anger in her eyes shows, but she doesn’t care. Sitting on the floor, she wipes away the tears that haven’t yet dried and takes a deep breath in an effort to compose herself.

She watches as Bellamy walk over to a closet in the bedroom and pull out a blanket. He hands it to her. Clarke just looks up at him questioningly, holding the blanket tightly to her. “Since you did an acceptable job sucking my cock earlier—for a virgin, that is—you’ve earned yourself a blanket,” he explains. 

He reaches down to stroke her hair gently, and Clarke sees his eyes soften for a moment before she closes her eyes to relish in the gentle contact. “It won’t be all bad, Clarke,” he whispers. “You get rewards when you are good.”

His hand leaves her hair, and she opens her eyes to look back at him. He’s emotionless again as he orders her into the cage for the night.

Holding tightly to her blanket, she crawls inside the metal cage with a plastic bottom and winces when he locks her inside.

**Author's Note:**

> More to come...eventually. ;)


End file.
